


tongue tied and twisted

by afrocurl



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkwardness, Families of Choice, Hanukkah, M/M, Mansion Fic, POV First Person, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-20
Updated: 2012-11-20
Packaged: 2017-11-19 04:21:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/569029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afrocurl/pseuds/afrocurl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crisis averted and Shaw dead, we all went to a mansion to live, to train.</p><p>Nothing between the two men who stopped missiles from falling was simple. But, I watched, and tried to comprehend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tongue tied and twisted

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ximeria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ximeria/gifts).



> I chose to write on this prompt: 
> 
>  
> 
> _Symbiosis - best case scenario if Erik and Charles ever did have a relationship would be true symbiosis - where one doesn't fear what the other might find in his mind. Show me a day, week or month in their lives - the ups and downs that will still be there. How others would see them but not quite understand how such two different men can create a whole larger than the sum of their parts._
> 
>  
> 
> Hopefully the slightly different point of view isn't a negative.

It was hard not to stare at the two men: they were captivating. I had nowhere else to look, anyway. The sight of one of them extending his hand and holding hundreds of missiles at bay was one I needed to see.

With nothing else to see, I stared at them, mesmerized. One implored the other to stop. The other ranted about the fate of Mutants at the hand of humans.

Their shouts were drowned out by the missiles cracking through the air, but I had no doubt that they were going to kill us all or kill each other to save the rest of us.

The smaller man attacked the one in Shaw’s helmet, and before anything else could rip through the expanse of blue and beige, they fought. They fought and they fought while missiles exploded. I shook, though no one but Azazel noticed. Everyone else, the smaller man’s team, were still captivated by them. Even Angel’s eyes were on them, worry lines creeping into the corners of her eyes.

They battled, bombs still going off overhead, until they each just _stopped_. Fists no longer tried to make contact, no longer flexed in pain. They stopped as if each had been worn down, beaten by an invisible force.

I had no idea how we were all going to leave with Shaw’s submarine strewn across the sand next to their downed plane, but as the two men kept talking to each other, it seemed that my earlier concern would not matter. They would find a way for all of us--Shaw’s team and theirs--to relocate to some other location.

It could have been worse.

We could have died.

-

We arrived, thanks to Azazel, at a large estate, small patches of snow spotted against dead grass. The other group melted at the sight of the house, but Angel, Azazel and I were apprehensive.

“Welcome to my home,” the smaller man said. “This is yours as much as it is mine. We can build something beautiful together, if we all push aside what we’ve done before.”

The man who had Shaw’s helmet nodded. “This is a new beginning for us all. We will find a way to bridge the gap between us and create a new world for us. By us. For us.” The helmet rested against his waist, as if he had forgotten why he had worn it on the beach.

He nodded at the smaller man, who still hadn’t introduced himself, and they walked away. I stood, shocked for a minute, before I followed everyone else into the house. Azazel and Angel stayed close by, as if they shared my disbelief of our presence at the estate. We waited for an hour, or so, before Erik--I think that was his name--returned to see us all still standing in the kitchen.

“I know you’re all not sure about what you’re doing here. I promise that we’ll work out a better solution. For now, follow me and we’ll get you all settled into a few rooms.” Erik paused, looked up towards the ceiling, and then back at us. “Your rooms are all being prepared right now. We’ll start with the tour first, it seems.”

We followed Erik out, walking through the ground floor. After we had seen at least three libraries, a parlor and the formal dining room, Erik started to ascend the stairs. It took another fifteen minutes of looking through the smaller studies on the first floor before we were lead into three different rooms across from elegant paintings. “Here are each of your rooms. We hope you find them suitable. These, sadly,” Erik said, “are not situated with en suite baths. There is one large bath just down the hall here,” he pointed towards the end of the hall, “and you’re the only ones sharing that one. Raven and the others are up on the second floor, while Charles and I are on the third floor.”

I shook my head at the thought of the two of them alone on a floor of this home, but it did not seem the right thing to say after we have all been graciously offered a place to stay. I nodded as Erik stepped away from the center-most room, and he left without another word. As he walked, he started to raise his fist towards the higher floors. It must have been a conversation with Charles. Another one of those questions that I wouldn’t ask.

Not yet at least.

-

Dinner that evening was nothing if not awkward. Angel, Azazel and I all sat as far away from everyone else as we could, though it put a smile on Charles’ face as we did. “Friends,” he started, “you do not need to worry about me, or anyone here. We’re all smart enough to put the past in the past.” Erik gave a scowl at that, before Charles let out an exasperated huff before continuing. “We have nothing against you.” Some of the utensils started to rattle at Charles’ words, before he looked at Erik. For the second time today, it seemed like they were conversing without letting the rest of us to listen in, but I could not begrudge either of them that. Charles’ hand went to his temple and just as he did, the utensils stopped rattling.

I did not choose to think through their relationship if the two of them seemed to at ease with each other, but I would never have trusted Emma to control my powers for me, since it seemed as if Charles had taken over Erik’s.

It was one more thing to think about as we settled back into the meal. No one else made mention of Charles’ display of power, nor Erik’s cool, collected response. Maybe that was normal before, and would still be.

-

Breakfast the next day saw Erik silently working in the kitchen, spatula and whisk working simultaneously to create the meal. Charles sat, impassive, as Erik worked. As I thought about making a pot of strong coffee, I felt like I was interrupting. They said nothing to each other--at least that I could hear--but their eyes were following the other, that much I could tell.

“Am I interrupting?” I asked.

“No, nothing like that, Janos.” Charles paused. “May I call you by your name?”

I nodded my agreement, still unused to speaking aloud.

“Very well, then. Thank you for confirming that.” Charles looked up briefly, before starting again. “Erik, I can tell that you’re about to burn the pancakes. Please flip them.”

I expected to see Erik flinch at Charles’ imposition, but he only turned to look at the pan, spatula moving to flip the pancakes over. It felt as though they were too close for that sort of comfort. Just the day before they had been yelling at each other, ready to kill each other. Yet today, they stood, comfortable with their powers and with the other’s powers to look almost idyllic.

It was too much to take in so soon after I had arrived. I let it pass, finding that the coffee still was not strong enough.

They were silent as I left, content to work with each other, through each other, towards one goal.

-

It was easier to live in the house after a few weeks. No longer did Angel, Azazel, and I receive doubtful looks and sidelong glances as we walked into the kitchen for breakfast, though it was clear there was still some unease from everyone, save Charles and Erik.

Mystique, over another breakfast a few days later, announced that she had plans for Thanksgiving. I looked at her, very confused, and waited for some explanation.

Everyone else around the table seemed to understand, so I tried to keep from speaking up.

“Raven, dear, I think that some of our guests are unfamiliar with what you’re talking about. Please explain.” Charles said. Had I thought loudly enough for him to hear?

She looked at Charles, caught in another one of his silent conversations, before she started again. “For those of you who aren’t familiar, it’s a day of celebrating the work between the Indians and Pilgrims way back in the 1600s. There’s lots of food and we all give thanks for what we have received this year.”

“That wasn’t historically accurate, Raven,” Charles added. “But that’s the sentiment. We’ll have a lovely, excessively large dinner on Thursday and that will be it.” He walked out of the room, leaving the rest of us to think through the implications of such a large meal.

Uncharacteristically,Erik lingered with us. “Charles will send you a note about what he’d like you to make.” He made no complaint about being forced to relay Charles’ message. He seemed to take it as part of being here, with Charles, though again it seemed so at odds with what I saw earlier.

Erik was not someone I would say that to, however. I was aware of exactly what he did to Shaw and I did not want to suffer the same fate.

-

The following evening, later than I was usually up, I walked into the kitchen looking for some warm milk to calm me down after Erik had taken the time to ask the extend of my power, running me through the grounds as I set to destroy small patches of the outlying forests. The room was filled with the smell of something good, something I did not recognize.

“What are you making?” I asked, though Erik was muttering to himself about it being an unreasonable time to make anything for dinner the following day.

“Charles has insisted that I make the stuffing for dinner tomorrow. It doesn’t seem to matter that I can’t even eat half the things I’m putting into this.” He looked annoyed, frustrated and put out at the idea alone. After a moment, he added, “I don’t suppose you know anything about cooking sausage or lobster, or ugh, giblets?” He looked at the collection of things on the cutting board again, staring at the large collection of uncooked meats.

I nodded my head, watching as he smiled in delight that his stuffing might not suffer because he lacked the requisite knowledge. He muttered again under his breath to Charles, though it seemed odd to talk aloud to Charles when he could have sent the message mentally.

It was not worth the effort to ask Erik, so I set about looking at the ingredients that had been laid out for Erik to use. He appreciated the help as I sauteed the sausage and boiled the lobster and giblets.

Dinner, the next night, was well-received. Charles sent a quick mental thanks for my help with Erik. I nodded just enough to show that I had heard, but not enough to suggest I would welcome him there more often.

-

The success of Thanksgiving spurred Charles into action for every Winter holiday he knew of that related to the rest of us. “We’ll be celebrating Hanukkah and Christmas this month, so please plan accordingly. Small tokens are expected, and no more. Do not think to spend more than five dollars on any one person, but also don’t feel obligated to buy something for everyone.”

The room was abuzz with the idea of _two_ holidays in the same month, but it was soon forgotten as we all finished breakfast. Charles was one of the first to leave, the room going quiet after he left.

Erik, as usual, was one of the last to finish, just as I was. He looked slightly annoyed by the concept of the holidays and any celebration. His brows arched up five minutes after Charles had left. He shook his head after that, but when he made no attempt to verbalize his mental conversation with Charles, I let it pass.

I finished my eggs and toast before leaving Erik to his conversation with Charles.

They continued to have similar moments throughout the month, Erik’s brows always arched in slight annoyance. Charles appeared to be nonplussed by Erik’s annoyance when they were in the same room as me, though that was how Charles responded to everything.

By the first night of Hanukkah, Erik’s spirits had improved, but only because he had finally finished making an elaborate candelabrum.

“It’s beautiful,” Charles had said as we stood in the study around one of the infrequently used tables. Erik, not satisfied with the nine-branched candelabrum, had seen fit to make smaller holders for the tapered candles that looked as if they fit into each branch. He floated two candles over to the group before lighting a match. The flame went onto another larger candle Erik positioned on the table.

“I don’t remember any of the prayers associated with this holiday, but I’d like to light the candles all the same. Someone has reminded me that there is great beauty in the flickers lights.”

Charles wiped away a tear from his eye as Erik spoke before saying anything himself. “I could help,” he offered. Erik’s face paled slightly, but he took the offer with a small nod of his head.

The room was filled with Erik’s low voice saying a few short prayers and then a longer one, while Charles’ hand stayed at his right temple. The smaller candles floated to the one on the table before making their way into two spaces on the candelabrum, one to the far right and one in the middle to the space raised above all the others.

It was too serene to interrupt, the room quiet as Erik’s voice reverberated off the walls. The candles flickered in their places as we watched, each of us waiting for a clue from Erik. After five minutes, he seemed to come back into the room, coughing to get our attention. “Thank you for being here with me as I celebrate this holiday.” He turned away after, his voice cracking at the end of his statement.

Charles stood closer than he had before, his hand resting against Erik’s shoulder.

For all that I had seen in his month, this was the first time I had seen them touch since their fight. It seemed so intimate that I felt the rest of us ought to leave. Everyone else seemed focused on the subtle changes in the shadows cast by the candles, however.

I looked back at the candles, knowing that the unspoken bond between Charles and Erik was playing itself out. The candelabrum on the table rose suddenly before they both blew out the candle sitting on the table. Erik put the candelabrum back on the table, watching the flicker of the two small candles against the dark backdrop. Charles stayed at his side, content to watch as Erik looked on.

Together they blew out the candle and together they stood.

Despite all that I had seen, they were a pair. Bound together. Drawn to each other. For better or worse.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my betas.


End file.
